The Bottle That Moved

August 19, 2013

by Tod

2 min read

Story Premise 2 min read (287 words)

"I was fifteen, and my friend Marcus and I were left alone for the weekend. My parents had gone to a wedding, and we had the house to ourselves. We were both into wrestling, so we decided to have a pretend match in the living room, but we ended up in the kitchen, pushing each […]"

I was fifteen, and my friend Marcus and I were left alone for the weekend. My parents had gone to a wedding, and we had the house to ourselves. We were both into wrestling, so we decided to have a pretend match in the living room, but we ended up in the kitchen, pushing each other around near the counter.

On the counter were three bottles: a shampoo, a conditioner, and a body wash, all different colors. They were lined up neatly, probably put there by my mom for some reason. We were about a meter and a half away, throwing weak punches, laughing, when Marcus grabbed me in a headlock. He was taller and stronger, so he had me trapped. I started to feel dizzy, like I was about to pass out.

Through the blur, I saw the middle bottle, the conditioner, lift off the counter and fly straight at Marcus’s head. It hit him with a thud, and he let go of me, stumbling back with a confused look on his face. We both stared at the bottle lying on the floor. It had moved. There was no draft, no one else in the room. The other two bottles hadn’t moved an inch.

We stood there for a moment, hearts pounding. Then we heard a faint laugh, like a child’s giggle, from the hallway. We bolted to my room and locked the door. We didn’t come out until my parents got home, four hours later. We never spoke about it, but I knew Marcus saw it too.

Years later, I still can’t use that brand of conditioner without a chill running down my spine. And I never leave three bottles lined up on a counter.

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